


Play for me

by Livinei



Category: Mozart l'Opéra Rock - Mozart/Baguian & Guirao
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, anyway i dont know this took a long time to write and was a damn drag, hi hello what are tenses and ho the fuck do i use them, how
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 10:32:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15727614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livinei/pseuds/Livinei
Summary: Leopold wants to talk to Wolfgang alone. So Salieri waits for him. Wolfgang is in a grim mood after that talk. So Salieri plays for him.





	Play for me

**Author's Note:**

> btw "joseph lorraine" is a take on king joseph II, because i dont think he had an actual last name really, at least not one i could find, but he was in the house of habsburg-lorraine so i just took the lorraine part and made it his name.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think!!

 “So, what do you think?” Mozart’s cheerful voice pestered, the young man keeping himself a few steps ahead of Salieri. The two were walking down an otherwise empty hallway of Joseph Lorraine’s music school, everything quiet, save for the faint sounds of a couple of late brass players practicing on a floor somewhere below them.

Mozart was in the building in the first place not so much for the school part, but for the variety of available instruments and practice space to use, and for agreeing to teach an occasional solfeggio lesson here or piano lesson there he had a free roam of the building and all it had to offer. Salieri spent less time here than Mozart did, but when he did it was under similar circumstances.

Right now Mozart was bouncing excitedly, his back turned to the hallway, eyes looking for any reaction from the taller man’s face. Salieri’s gaze slowly slid over the sheets of music in his hand, flickering up from time to time only to make sure the little fool wasn’t unsuspectingly about to walk into anything, walking backwards like that without a care in the world. Now, though, he spared a glance at Mozart’s face and had to bite back a smile.

“You already know my opinion on your music.”

The grin that spread over Mozart’s face wasn’t haughty, and barely even proud. It was simply genuinely joyful, with the very tiniest hint of shy. It was a good look on him. Any smile was, Salieri had noticed.

“Generally, yes. But humour me!”

“I think this piece is awe-inspiring. As always.”

Honestly, Antonio didn’t know how they’d come to this, this very unlikely friendship. He’d never thought that would happen, and they’d been off to a relatively slippery start. Salieri preferred to keep most people at an arm’s length and hadn’t been particularly interested in _making friends,_ hadn’t seen the point in being overly sociable with this new guy. And while he’d wholly recognized the genius that Mozart was in making his music, his spirited and flamboyant and sometimes frankly _annoying_ personality wasn’t anything Salieri could have ever seen himself enjoying the company of. How wrong he’d been. Because sometimes, apparently, unlikely things happen. And so Mozart had determinedly wormed his way past Salieri’s defenses, little by little, step by step, making the walls that kept most people out crumble one by one. No, Salieri hadn’t thought he’d ever enjoy Mozart’s company, and yet now he frequently found himself missing that very thing whenever they parted ways. The universe is funny like that sometimes. But Salieri wouldn’t change it for a thing.

Mozart tilted his head back and the grin on his face widened, “Alright, that’s good! I’m glad. But what about what you don’t like?”

“What I don’t like?”

“Yeah! Didn’t like, would do differently, so on. Come on, Antonio, I’m sure there’s something you deem worth criticism.”

He didn’t look serious or worried, quite the opposite. Mozart seemed elated even at the idea that Salieri might disagree with something about his piece, face glowing with curiosity. Excited for criticism. _Only Mozart_ , Salieri thought while fondly shaking his head and letting out a sigh, focusing on the music sheets once more. After a few moments he pointed to the bottom of the second page and slowed his step to let Mozart lean closer to see.

“I wouldn’t have composed this part like that. But it does look like a very _you_ thing to do.”

“Oh? Why wouldn’t you?”  

“Well, I admit I don’t see how this cello part right here would fit into the _adagio mesto_ section, or how this entire section would work in the context of the whole piece,” Salieri said, turning the thought around in his head one last considering time before handing the papers back to Mozart, “but then again you do seem to make a habit of surprising me in these matters, so I wouldn’t dare claim that it’s definitely out of place on the basis of only reading the sheet music.”  

“It works, just wait til you hear it,” Mozart smiled and whipped around as they turned around the corner to another hallway, one that Salieri at first glance thought to be empty as well. Only at the fluttering sound of papers falling onto the floor did he look around to see that, for one, Mozart had stopped on a half step and dropped his sheets, face slack with shock, and for two, there actually was another person in the hallway, one that upon their approach stepped away from the wall and started making his way towards them with unhurried but purposeful steps.

It was a tall man, with a stern face, sharp cheekbones and greying hair, in a black frock coat and with an aura around him that made you feel the urge to stand up a little straighter. There was a certain kind of familiarity to his face, though Salieri was sure he’d never met this person before.

Mozart beside him had pulled himself out of his daze, but none of the earlier joviality returned. Instead, his body was tense and had lost the Mozart Bounce as he stepped forward to give the tall stranger a slightly stiff hug which was barely responded to with an imperceptible move of a hand. By the way he pulled back quickly, it didn’t look like Mozart had been expecting anything warmer, as if this was part of a routine that he’d been through many times before. Mozart’s face was a conflict of several emotions, there was the smallest hint of joy that was drowned between clashing currents of puzzlement, resignation, worry, and nervousness. Mozart, in a moment, looked vulnerable and caught off his guard, and not enjoying the fact. This, Salieri decided, was a disturbing change.

“Wolfgang,” the man stated in place of a greeting.

“Father.”

_Ah_. Of course. The cool, assessing eyes turned to him next, and Wolfgang stumbled back to Salieri’s side.

“Ah, this is my friend Antonio Salieri. Antonio, this is my dad, Leopold Mozart.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Leopold said with a polite nod, while Mozart looked at the exchange, chewing on his lip.

“All mine,” Antonio responded, mirroring the gesture. Wolfgang rocked back and forth on his heels before addressing his father.

“Why are you here, Dad? Is everything alright? Did something happen?”

Leopold’s voice was as hard-edged as his expression as he raised his hand to stop his son’s rambling, “Everything is fine, calm yourself. You’d know if you ever picked up your phone, but as I’ve understood, lately you’ve taken to ignoring my calls.”

Antonio busied himself with picking up the papers that Wolfgang had dropped, not knowing what to do. He shouldn’t be here. This was family stuff, this was something between Mozart and his father, and he had no business listening to it. It would be appropriate to excuse himself and leave, would be the polite thing to do in regards to the Mozarts. No matter how unhappy or uncomfortable Wolfgang looks. _Not my place._ Perhaps fortunately, perhaps not, Leopold spoke to his son before Salieri could decide.

“I’d like to have a word with you privately.”

“I should probably leave as well,” Salieri added softly, mostly to Wolfgang, and ignored the funny tightness in his chest as Mozart’s head whipped towards him, eyes wide. A hand gripped Salieri’s sleeve, even though he hadn’t made a move to go yet.

“Oh, um- Are you in a hurry?”

“No,” Salieri replied, frowning a bit.

“Then, will- Would you wait for me?” There was a strange kind of desperation in Wolfgang’s voice, a plea in his eyes, and Salieri… Well, he couldn’t say no to Mozart. “Please? I’ll be as fast as I’m able.”

“Alright,” he promised, if just to calm Mozart’s mind a little bit, “I’ll wait in the second piano class, end of the hall.”

The relief that clouded his friend’s face was divine.

  
  


Wolfgang let out a silent sigh, feeling tired and frustrated and small, his head feeling like it was filled with a messy ball of thread that only seemed to get more tangled the more he went over the last forty five minutes. But knowing that someone friendly, someone safe waited for him helped cut the thread a little shorter. He headed towards the melody coming from the other end of the hallway.

Mozart didn’t enter right away. He leaned his back against the corridor wall just behind the door and closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him and feeling it clear his mind a bit more. He realized that he didn’t really just stand back and _listen_ to Salieri play like this all that often. He’s missing out, Mozart realized, making a mental note to work on fixing this in the future. After a good five minutes, he finally entered the room. Salieri, not seeing him come in, stopped playing when Mozart sat down next to him, back towards the piano.

“Thanks for waiting. I’m sorry it took so long,” Mozart sighed, leaning sideways into Antonio.

“It’s fine,” Salieri shook his head, looking at the sagged figure of what would normally be an energetic and enthusiastic young man, “...Are you okay?”

Mozart didn’t say anything for a few moments, before sighing.

“I… Yeah, I’m fine. I just… You know. Never good enough. All my life I’ve just been trying to make him proud, and it seems I never truly will,” he let out a bitter chuckle, “And, I _do_ do things for myself now, not for him, which is part of the issue it seems - but it still hurts.”

Mozart looked drained. Antonio leaned towards him a little in response, in hopes of offering support. He nodded towards the piano, knowing Mozart wouldn’t see it from his angle but would probably feel the movement.

“Do you want to play?”

“No. No, I don’t think anything pretty would come out of here right now,” Wolfgang laughed, and shifted his position. Salieri turned on the seat to have a better chance of seeing his face.

“Then, can I help you feel better in any way?” he asked, hesitant.

At this, Mozart stood up and sat back down so that they were now both facing towards the piano, looking straight into Salieri’s eyes. Mozart’s expression was open and unveiled, with several emotions laid out on his face plain and sincere, the most prominent of which Antonio was far too familiar with in regards to Mozart, and the buzzing warmth that shot through his entire body was only partly due to Mozart leaning into his side again.

“Yeah,” Wolfgang hummed. “Right now, I just want to listen to you play. Will you play for me?”

Antonio played.


End file.
